


The Malevolent Nuzzler

by Levity_Lirium



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/F, F/M, Ghosties and Ghoulies and Longlegged Beasties, M/M, References to Death of Throwaways, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levity_Lirium/pseuds/Levity_Lirium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone who knew the story about Dracula's beginning well knew that when someone he loved was killed or harmed, he went completely overboard in getting his revenge.<br/>No one knew for sure about Dracula's ancestors, but the world found out a bit too late that Alucard took after his mother, Alucard's estranged daughter, Lily Vervain Evans, died before she really got into the swing of things, and that Dracula's great grandson, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived...<br/>Well...<br/>His apple fell a bit too close to the Dragon's tree, if you catch my drift.<br/>And everyone who knows anything about how Harry became Hadrian can tell you, it was entirely Albus Dumbledore's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Malevolent Nuzzler

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure yet how far I'll go with this, but I'd like feedback. I'm honestly surprised there haven't been many, if any, real crossovers of this type before.

**Prologue.**

 

It was really bad, this time.

Uncle Sir had beaten him bloody and was about to stomp on his chest again when Boy wished for the millionth time he was somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere he was loved.

Only this time, his core was almost full, seeing as Uncle Sir had been gone for a week and Aunt Ma’am had felt sorry enough for him that she gave him cheese with his bread and milk or juice instead of just water.

And Boy was also genuinely about to die if that blow landed. His ribs, still fractured from previous stomps and weakened from previous breaks and malnutrition, would have collapsed and shredded his lungs.

So his magic latched onto the spilt Blood of the Innocent, registered that the Blood Wards would only hold if he was taken in by someone of maternal blood relation, and Pulled the half-conscious boy through space to the home of his great-grandfather.

The wards around the Dursley residence collapsed like brittle sugar glass.

*****

Boy landed on the altar of a disused chapel, slightly dusty and in a state of disrepair.

The altar was white granite and his head struck the stone with a hollow crack.

Staring up at the oddly golden ceiling, his already hazy vision vaguely made out the shape of a head with dark hair leaning over the edge of a balcony in the orange-gold ceiling.

In the minutes between closing his eyes and reopening them, the face was right above him, pale, beautiful and ethereal. The woman’s face was beautiful and immaculate as the face of a porcelain doll, with bright, warm red eyes, flush lips wreathing sharp white teeth, oddly elf-like ears on the sides of her head, and spiralled goat horns curling back from her crown.

Boy made a sound of pain as she picked him up and closed his eyes, burying his face into her too-warm shoulder as she turned and began moving quickly, an odd _whoop-whoosh_ sound in the air like a metronome.

Boy swung into consciousness an indeterminable time later as the woman put him down on a flat surface, and an elderly face of indeterminable gender peered down at him, speaking as through from in another room through a wall, in a language he couldn’t understand.

His eyes closed again as something warm and smooth started nudging at his own Warm-Dark-Velvet magic, and was eaten by it, _pulling-pulling-pulling_ at the warm-smooth magic for more as Boy’s magic tried to heal him, and kept running out of power and material to heal the body with. Not even the Blood Ward of Mother’s Sacrifice was able to help, already weakened as it was.

Some kind of liquid was occasionally tipped down the body’s throat, but was almost always fully digested before reaching the stomach to shore up the damage closest or most important.

There was a brief moment where the Warm-Dark-Velvet magic met a Cool-Dark-Velvet magic probing at it. Sensing a better compatibility, Boy’s magic abandoned the flagging warm-smooth magic and latched onto the new, colder magic, briefly nudging the Blood Wards, and going back to trying to heal its vessel.

Briefly, Boy managed to open his eyes to find the old person was very tired-looking, and there was an older man with a sharp, white face, pale grey hair and a small beard standing over him, watching with blank red eyes and a frown.

There was a moment where their eyes met and memories flickered through, before landing on a memory of a pretty lady with red hair and green eyes and screaming ‘ _Not Harry!_ ’ and a high, cruel sound that sounded a bit like laughter and ending with bright green light.

The Blood Wards struck out and latched into the pale man, causing the man’s eyes to glow red and his lips to snarl around sharp teeth.

Then Boy fell back in.

Cold blood flowed past his lips and down his throat.

Boy’s magic paused, considered, then surged.

*****

Dracula could only stare at the boy asleep in his own bed in his Private Quarters, the bed he hadn’t slept in since his Lisa died, unable to comprehend exactly what his son had been thinking to abandon his young grandson to magic-less humans who would hurt him.

The only answer he could come up with was that Adrian hadn’t known about either his daughter or grandson.

Even now, Dracula could feel his granddaughter’s Echo of Self shifting tiredly within the Blood Ward that had attached itself to him in the brief moment the boy had woken up. She was wary, he felt, but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it gave her son a better chance at life.

He could respect how far she had been willing to go for her son, sacrificing herself like that, as he would have done the same for his own. Would probably still do the same for his own son if it came to it.

And now, the small, dark-haired child was more vampire than human, more dhampire than even Adrian was. He would primarily subsist on blood until he reached adolescence, and food would be more for variety than sustenance ever after. He would be sensitive to sunlight, burning easily, and would be primarily nocturnal.

His name was Harry; a peasant name. But it could be short for a number of things. Like Hadrian.

Hadrian for his grandfather. Leon for Dracula’s old friend and enemy, as well as for the boy’s father’s crest, a lion. He couldn’t carry the name ‘Tepes’; it would paint a target on the boy’s back, but few knew his original family name of ‘Cronqvist’. So…

Hadrian Leon Cronqvist.

The succubus, Velvet, had been protecting things for him for centuries, and only himself, Death, and Velvet, herself, knew where her rooms were. One more thing for her to protect would be a small thing, and she wasn’t unused to caring for young dhampires, in that she was often Adrian’s nanny when he was small and Dracula wanted some private time with Lisa.

The Coven Elder, Gerda, knew how to keep her mouth shut, and would do so if she wanted to continue living.

The child shifted in his sleep, then settled.

Even now, he could see how strongly the child took after Adrian, much like the child’s mother, Lily, had looked like a fire-haired Lisa. With the addition of the vampire’s blood to help heal the child’s body, he could still see the minute shifts as he changed to look more like the Dragon once had when he was Matthias.

Feeling dawn approach, Dracula shifted from his still, breathless, position and sighed, removing his cloak, boots and overclothes, and slid under the sheets to wrap protectively around his great-grandson, slipping into a light torpor from which he would wake if the child stirred, absently ensuring he remained breathing and his heart beating for the child’s comfort.

It had comforted Adrian as a child, after all.

*****

Boy woke to the sound of breathing and a dull thumping under his cheek, distantly accompanied by the smell of the taste of copper and nightime and a something like jasmine.

The room was darker than his cupboard was, but he could still see enough to be able to tell someone was holding him in cold, strong arms to a cold, hard chest covered in a cotton shirt. There were heavy blankets and clean sheets around him that smelled like lavender and slightly of dust.

Tilting his head to see who was with him, he found it was an older man he vaguely recognised from when he was hurt.

Now able to study the man, he found his eyes tracing along the high, sharp cheekbones and strong, angular jaw, taking in the small white beard and moustache, as well as the tumble of silky-soft grey-shadowed white hair and high, pale eyebrows. It was only as his eyes dipped down over the man’s eyes that he realised the man was watching Boy from under his lashes, the red iris’ glowing faintly in the gloom.

Unthinkingly, Boy made himself a smaller target as his magic began whispering ‘ _Don’t hurt me. I’ve been good. Don’t hurt me. I’ve been good.’_ Not game enough to turn his gaze away, he continued staring.

Sensing the whispers, the man frowned and the Cool-Dark-Velvet power rolled beneath the surface of his skin, causing the whispers to grow louder and faster, then ebb off as the power settled.

"I won’t harm you, Hadrian."

Boy blinked. He didn't have a name, he wasn't worth enough for one, so it was unlikely the man was talking to him. But the man was looking at him, so...

"I am your great grandfather and I will be your guardian from now on. I may not always be available, so you will be in the care of Velvet when I am not with you." The man paused and regarded Boy with a look that was both sad and angry, before it softened as much as his hard face could. "Are you hungry, child?"

Cautiously, Boy nodded minutely, beginning to trust the man for some reason he wasn't sure of.

Still, Boy went still when the man raised his free hand to his mouth and bit into his wrist, spilling blood that was almost a shining red with black shadows, even in the dark room.

Unable to help himself, Boy moved forward and latched his mouth onto the bleeding wound as it was offered to him, an itchy sensation at the front of his mouth producing a pair of sharp teeth he used to dig into the healing skin, worrying at the wound to stimulate blood flow.

The taste was rich and heady, like that mouthful of fatty lamb roast Aunt Ma'am once pretended not to see him take, smattered with a bit of the thick pan gravy. There was a wave of something sweet under the initial taste, like molasses, and a vague aftertaste of baking soda.

Boy's Warm-Dark-Velvet power purred him back to sleep as he mouthed at the wound, teeth retracted and the wound closed.

Somewhere, the man chuckled deeply in amusement.

******

Boy, now known as Hadrian, settled into his knew life quietly.

He slept most of the day away either in the protective circle of his Grandfather's arms or up in the hidden room above the Chapel, cuddled with Miss Velvet in her soft fabric nest.

At dusk and dawn, he would spend time with Grandfather and drink the blood that was offered to him as Grandfather would read to him from the books in the study, or teach him how to play Cat's Cradle and knucklebones in front of the fire.

After that, Miss Velvet would take him to the Library where he would have lesson time with the little Witches and other young magic using beings with Miss Coven Elder Gerda until early morning when they would all go play in the Gardens or Courtyard until it was time for him to spend time with Grandfather.

Hadrian quickly grew to love the pale man who ruled the Castle, for all that he remained shy and quiet. He loved Miss Velvet, too, and he was becoming good friends with a little succubus girl called Morrigan, and a werewolf named Kelda.

There was a day once, not long after he arrived, where he woke up around midday covered in blood and his new teeth deep in a man's arm, while Grandfather snarled angrily.

There were a lot of people trying to grab him and people shouting, before Grandfather tore him from the arms of his attempted kidnappers and hid him under the bed.

There were more shouts before a series of loud cracks filled the air, leaving Hadrian with his rather angry Grandfather, who wouldn't let the boy outside the circle of his arms for any reason but to feed from the prisoners in the place Hadrian wasn't allowed to go, for several months.

Not even for class.

There was something about updating the castle wards and defences, but Hadrian took more entertainment from peering at the assortment of monsters and beings who came to speak with Grandfather.

All of the beings stared back when they saw him, some obvious and some subtle, some curious and some confused, but Grandfather wasn't worried, so neither was Hadrian.

Eventually, years passed, and his growth proved to be slowed greatly, even by monster standards.

So Hadrian was seven going on eleven, when the letter arrived. Grandfather curled his lip at it, briefly passed it on to Death and Gerda, then wrote a short, sharp response before giving the response to the eagle owl waiting for the letter.

Time moved on patiently, as it tends to do for the long lived races, so when Hadrian was ten going on nineteen, he was surprised when Grandfather held him throughout the night, lavishing stilted affection and regular blood feedings upon him, telling him stories and small pieces of advice.

And towards dawn, gifted the young almost vampire with a long, coldly glowing sword, a beautiful, long cloak with a black outer layer and a twilight grey inner layer, and a glowing red stone marbled with gold and hung on a chain that Grandfather hung around his small neck.

"Never take this off, Hadrian," The older vampire murmured, hand cupping his boy's cheek, something like pained resignation on his face. "It will protect you and keep you safe from anything that would harm you, even unto death."

Hadrian frowned, brows crinkling with worry. "Are we going somewhere?"

The smile Grandfather gave was brittle. "Velvet will be taking you away from the Castle for your own protection, along with many of the other young inhabitants. She will then take you to the Goblin's banks to claim your heritage from your father's bloodline. I only ask that you help the rest of our people as you can."

Hadrian's lip wobbled. "But I want to stay with you forever."

Cold arms wrapped around him and the little boy buried his face into his Grandfather's shoulder, both ignoring the sound of battle in the hallway as the enemy grew closer. "Forever is a very long time." The words were murmured into his hair. "I need you to be strong until I return."

Hadrian pulled back and rubbed his tears away. "Promise to come back?"

The smile was sad and fierce and full of sharp teeth. "I will always come back. I always have."

Then Grandfather was turning and Miss Velvet was ghosting him away as the door opened.

Hadrian had a brief moment of meeting bright blue eyes over Grandfather's shoulder before Miss Velvet threw them both out an open window and into the predawn air.

Hadrian was only one of many younglings who cried as the Castle fell.

*****

Hadrian, despite his physically young age and mentality, was more than able to keep up with the Goblins and Miss Velvet regarding the matters of his finances and titles.

Because he was nineteen, he was more than able to claim his 'Wizarding' Titles despite his 'young' age because the Wizards considered him an adult at seventeen.

There were a few days where the denizens of Castlevania slept in an old mine, before the Goblins were able to open up one of the old Manors that were either from the Potters, were Willed to him by other End of Line magic folk as they died, and those he inherited from his now deceased Godfather, who died of despair, after finding out Hadrian was 'dead', in Azkhban three months before it was found that he had been innocent of all charges and the real culprit was found.

And, as he fell asleep in his new bed in the old Romanian Manor, alone for the first time since he'd gone to live with Grandfather, Hadrian cried himself to sleep under the covers.

 


End file.
